Nightmare
by NeonFury
Summary: It was all too easy to bury what made him William -to bury all those feelings and just not care anymore. After all, he was alone with nothing but Them for company and They forced him to do as they pleased. Being in no pain was the preferred way of surviving after all (even if there was that gramaphone). Not TotallyEvil!Maxwell AU(ish)
1. Chapter 1

**AN: While I love the thought that Maxwell is a hundred percent evil and does everything for his own entertainment, a part of me goes: he was human once, wasn't he? Could They have changed his personality that much? Then I thought about it some more and had the idea of what if he wasn't completely evil? What if it was entirely the shadows controlling him through some means, such as pain? And if so, what if that was why Maxwell came out of William? It's easier to bury morals etc and not care for others when the consequences are an eternity of pain. Anyways, that's just my thoughts.**

 **Warnings: A bit AUish. Characters might be a bit OOC.**

 **I've almost completely written this so, hopefully, I will update rapidly.**

 **I don't own Don't Starve/Don't Starve Together or anything associated with it. I don't own the story image either.**

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Chapter 1

Maxwell didn't know how much time had passed since he'd first come here. He had long ago ceased to care about something such as that. After all, he was bound to this chair for all time. He had nowhere to go. In fact, he _couldn't_ go anywhere. Not without the shadows approval, and they rarely gave it these days. Or was it closer to months? Years? He could no longer tell. There was nothing to mark time here. Not even that damnable gramaphone would stop playing its jaunty tune. Just his slowly slipping insanity and growing lack of caring let him know that time moved at all.

He had stopped wondering about many things that had once mattered to him. Being bound to the Nightmare Throne with nothing but Them for company did that to you. So, when they had demanded he bring that crazy haired scientist into his realm, he had done it without protest and gave just a few parting words to the man,

" _Say pal, you don't look so good. You better find something to eat before night comes!"_

The scientist, he decided, would not live long. They never did and protests, he learnt, would just mean pain. They had learnt that physical pain was the only thing that affected him now. His heart had long ago frozen over with the loss of Charlie. They used to give him images of Charlie's suffering and remind him that he was the one who sacrificed her to Them in order to become famous. These images no longer affected him. It did not matter to him how Charlie was fairing; if she was alive or dead. In his mind, she was already dead. Dead the minute she succumbed to darkness and became the terror in the dark. At least, that was what he told himself and They believed him. Deep down, however, he knew that wasn't true.

In a way, he was glad that all that made him William per se was buried deep within him long ago. While he and William were, essentially, the same person, he had learnt it was easier to believe they were almost completely separate entities. In fact, it was necessary for his sanity, disregarding the fact that it was not very sane to split one's personality in the first place. William would not have been able to live here long with all of his sensibilities interfering, but, as the uncaring and cruel Maxwell, he could survive… if one could call giving up ones' morals and beliefs survival. Should he ever be allowed to die, he would not be going anywhere pleasant.

At first, it had been exhausting suppressing his feelings. Now… it was second nature and it was because of this ability to separate himself that They decided to keep him permanently instead of killing him outright. Maxwell could do what he was told and not put up any resistance against Them. William's conscious, however, would not allow him to sit idly by, and it was because of Wlliam's bleeding heart that he had ended up in this chair in the first place. What a desperate fool he had been back then...

Maxwell sighed and tried to find a comfortable position within his restraints. At the present moment, it did not appear as if he'd be released anytime soon. The shadows had no sense of time and did not care for his mental wellbeing. It was physically impossible for him to die under their watchful gaze and insanity would only help them further whatever hidden agenda they had.

It was a good thing he had grown accustomed to the dark.

One could almost say he was in a first name basis with it.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: I don't own Don't Starve/Don't Starve Together or anything associated with it.**

Chapter 2

The endless tune of the gramaphone was particularly irritating one day when he felt it. A sudden shift in his realm. Someone had managed to pass through his first portal.

' _Higgsbury!'_

Somehow, against all expectations, his newest victim had managed to find it. The shadows clenched tightly around his arms before releasing themselves from the chair and slithering up under his sleeves. It would appear he would need to pay a certain scientist a visit. Swiftly, he scanned his realm to find out just where the intruder had landed. The shadows' glee nearly overwhelmed him as he grabbed his jacket, hoping to stave off feeling even colder than he already was. Higgsbury had not appeared in any of the more hospitable worlds.

Maxwell shifted into being beside the half unconscious scientist and took a second to get used to the blinding light of the sun. It was always painful to be reintroduced to the light after such protracted periods of time in the dark. The snow crunched under his feet as he took a glance about, taking inventory of his surroundings. A few trees were burning nearby, which was probably the only reason Higgsbury had not already frozen to death. Otherwise, the land appeared to be just ordinary snow covered grasslands

The shadows writhed impatiently, already finished with their assessments of the situation and demanding he go back to his personal prison. There was a very slim chance that anyone could survive here long and the shadows seemed to be content to let everything play out for now. After all, only a few survivors had made it this far before and what a wonderful new opportunity for Them to observe something new. No one made it long in this never ending winter. He doubted the scientist would blow away his expectations of a slow cold death.

Despite Their impatience, Maxwell delayed leaving just a bit longer as, somewhere deep down inside of him, a flame sparked to life. A strange sense of curiosity that he had not felt in a long time. Even if Higgsbury did not live long, maybe this man could provide him some entertainment in the short term? Would he be able to survive the first few hours here? Being restrained to a chair was awfully dull, but the shadows could possibly give him a window to observe. If he was lucky.

A low moan escaped the prone scientist as he slowly regained consciousness, breaking Maxwell out of his thoughts. Brown bleary eyes slowly blinked open and widened in surprise once Higgsburry noticed him standing a few feet away. Maxwell merely gave a sinister smile and placed his freezing hands into his coat pockets.

"Oh, you found my portal did you? You'd think you would have learned your lesson by now."

The gentlemanly scientist was not quite aware enough to form a response or move away, and Maxwell found himself once again wondering just how this twig of a man had managed to survive for so long. Surely, something should have eaten him by now? Well, no matter, he'd surely be dead by nightfall. Feeling smug, Maxwell hummed to himself for a second before continued silkily,

"Let's try something a little more challenging, shall we?"

A bolt of pain shot through Maxwell as the shadows ran clawed finger down his back, but he hid his expression well from the survivor. It seemed They had run out of patience for his distraction. He was not to interact with his victims outside of his snaring them and dumping them into the wilderness. That was supposed to be the one instance where he gave off the illusion of being the god of this realm. It was necessary to keep anyone from guessing what was really behind it all. Not that anyone would live long enough to escape here.

Checking the situation out after the use of the portal was an essential disruption, but that was supposed to be hasty. It was supposed to be a quick survey as to whether they would survive long enough to be worth watching. There was to be absolutely no other interaction with Their subjects. Talking… That was out of line. So with a smirk towards Higgsbury, he disappeared into the ground once more.

Unfortunately, before he had a chance to gain his bearings in the endless night, he found himself being dragged once more to the Nightmare Throne. He never willing sat down, not since that very first time when he had thought They would let Charlie go if he gave in. He should never have given into that blasted codex. Hindsight really was twenty/twenty. If only he had done things differently, Charlie would still be that sweet young girl. Perhaps, she would never have met him, but she'd be alive. If he could do it over, he could deal with that: the pain of her not knowing who he was. It was preferable to her current state. Anything at all was preferable to that hell.

After a while, he found himself absent mindedly humming along with the gramaphone as he stared out into the nothingness. Idly, he tapped out the music with his right hand as the shadows twisted about, squeezing and loosening around his wrists to the point they started to ache.

Sometimes, he could see Them in the dark around him. Always, _always_ watching. Not once in his many attempts to get them to divulge their plans, had they revealed them. They just demanded he create more in this world of shadow. Create and bring in their victims so they could watch. Perhaps all the watching was just for entertainment? Or were they learning something? If so, what? How best to torture humans?

Speaking of humans, he no longer felt human himself. The shadows wrapped around his limbs had transformed him somehow. They had started to change him ever since he had found that book. He was never thirsty or hungry. If he created a breeze or rain, he could not feel it against his skin. He could no longer feel heat against his sickly white skin; only a never ending cold. A cold that grew worse with each passing minute. No amount of layers or fires could put it off; it only delayed the cold's progression. He missed the sun's warmth, a cool drink, the ability to sleep. The things he had taken for granted before being dragged here. He had created lights around him, but the shadows would not let him light them. No, a survivor had to activate them. As if any of them could make it this far into the shadow realm.

He was tired of this game.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

" _Well, would you have a look at that, you survived. One down, four to go."_

Silence reigned between them for a few moments. No creature would dare to draw his attention. Not if they wanted to survive. Even the simplest creature here knew better to stay out of Their notice and They were always keeping him company: safeguarding him and ensuring that there would always be someone to sit in the Nightmare Throne. It was only the survivors who remained ignorant of this little tidbit. All of them just assumed he was the god of this nightmare realm. Creater? Yes, but only because they lacked imagination. Him being a god? They'd never allow it.

He was not sure what possessed him to let that valuable information slip to the pest exploring his worlds. Perhaps it was William trying to resurface, but the reason why did not matter. Not as he felt those invisible hands tighten beneath his collar. Their grip was not quite enough to choke him, but it was a promise of what would happen later.

Higgsbury had just looked at him with such confusion -as if he couldn't quite believe Maxwell had just let slip useful information either. Information as valuable as the knowledge that there were a finite number of places he could go. That must mean that there was an end to the madness. Maxwell himself couldn't believe he had done such a thing.

"Th-thanks?" Higgsbury muttered from the ground.

There was a new sense of determination in the pest's eyes that hadn't been there before and Maxwell just knew then that his slip was going to cost him deeply. There was no way this man would allow himself to fall into insanity or depression. Not when he had something as pathetic as _hope_ to cling to. They sensed it as well and a feeling of anger that was not his own passed over the dapper man. Now this scientist… this _play thing_ had become a threat. He was now something that could not be left on his own to wander about aimlessly as they watched.

The thought crossed Maxwell's mind to end the scientist's life here and now. Would it not be a mercy to end his miserable existence? Unbidden, he found himself smiling at the thought of wringing his scrawny neck. The punishment for revealing information would, perhaps, be lessened by killing the survivor himself instead of letting the environment take its toll or sending some monster to hopefully eat Higgsbury. There was too great of a chance of survival. Higgsbury had already proved he could overcome his adversaries and tame the land. It would also delight them to see him debase himself even further, considering he had yet to try and take anyone's life personally. Oh, how the mighty had fallen.

Higgsbury's confused look melted away to concern and then to fear as his survival instincts told him to flee. He made a move to scrabble away, but Maxwell knew his gaunt malnourished body had not yet recovered from being transported to this realm. As he expected, the scientist's arms failed to support him as he tried to run and he fell back down into the snow. Panicked, the pest blurted,

"Why tell me about the number of worlds if you're just going to kill me?"

Maxwell paused mid step in his slow advance. The shadows tightened around him in frustration. No doubt, if They could have, they would have left him already to kill the survivor themselves. Fortunately for Their plaything, the fire burning merrily nearby was too bright for them. This was why they needed him. Light did not affect him and that immunity was necessary to be able to kidnap their human subjects.

Looking down his nose at Higgsbury, he said the first thing that came to mind, "Well, pal, to watch the hope die in your eyes as you realize that you will not be leaving here alive despite how hard you've tried to escape."

There was no point to explaining that it was his fear of Them that drove his actions. He got no sick enjoyment out of this world, not like the shadows all around them. It was better to take someone's insignificant life than having to deal with whatever They decided to bestow upon him.

He made to move towards the glaring scientist, but, instead, found himself frozen to the spot. He struggled against some invisible bonds for a moment as Higgsbury snapped,

"What are you waiting for?"

' _Damn it, William! You picked one hell of a time to show up! Insufferable bleeding heart!'_ He roared at his alter ego. The pressure in his mind increased as William fought against him for control. Of course, William would get attached to this man with a story not so different from his own in this harsh world… except, the shadows had not bothered to show _him_ mercy. So why should this insolent nuisance receive any?

As if in answer to his thoughts, Their claws raked down his side; a very painful reminder that he was not following their wishes. Now, truly and utterly angry himself, Maxwell nearly snarled at his would be victim in frustration before remembering his place. He needed to play it cool and not show any weaknesses. While still struggling against William, he pretended to ponder on Higgsbury's question.

"Hmmm, perhaps I'll let you live a little bit longer. What'dya say, pal? Let's see if you can survive the next few nights."

And with that, William won out against Maxwell and teleported him back to the realm of darkness. Furious, Maxwell had no intention of letting him go back to hide into the recesses of their mind. Let William reap what he had sowed. He would not endure his punishment this time. Unlike, that pathetic excuse, _he_ had tried to save them from the fate that would soon befall them. _He_ had his priorities in order: his continued miserable existence was to come before anything or anyone else. That meant obeying Them at all costs. _William_ had promised that to himself the the day Maxwell fractured away from William's consciousness and suppressed his feelings. To protect William from himself was the sole reason he existed.

' _It is not going to a quiet few days on your throne_ ,' he spitefully said to Willaim as they landed before his chair. The realization must have dawned on the weak hearted fool as They whipped his feet out from under him. The force against his shielded mind worsened as William frantically beat mental fists against him.

His head hit the floor with a hard crack. Bursts of stars circled in their shared vision as William tried to force him back to the surface. An impossible task. Maxwell had many years of practice keeping William hidden. It was all too easy to keep him out.

Gleefully, he closed his mental eyes and shut down, ignoring his own screams of desperation tearing through his throat and the sounds of his nails scrapping against the stone floor.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

When Maxwell awoke, he was once again bound tightly to the chair.

In the darkness, he could hear nothing, but the gramaphone, even William was silent. There wasn't the slightest indication that he was there. For a split second, he worried if William had finally up and disappeared. It was a brief feeling of worry because, after all, what would his purpose for existing be if there was no William? Pondering on the conundrum briefly, he decided, in the end, that his disappearance would probably be for the best, pathetic imbecile that he was. He caused nothing, but trouble for them.

' _Good riddance!'_

Without him, everything should go much more smoothly with Them. He, Maxwell, might not enjoy his existence, but it would be a much better one if They had no reason to punish him. All their reasons stemmed from William. _All of them._

His body ached and felt wrong, twisted even. Carefully, he tried to straighten up in his chair, but discovered he was incapable of doing so without a terrible pain shooting down his back and down into his toes. He managed to bite back a grunt of pain, refusing to give Them more satisfaction; however, he could not quite help the wince that followed. He tried not to wonder what they had done to his back though he had the rising suspicion that it had been broken at some point, judging by the pain. Obviously, They had not bothered to heal it correctly afterwards.

It hurt to think. The terrible pounding behind his eyes caused him to lose his train of thoughts after a few moments. The more he tried to think about what They had done to his body, the angrier he became. They certainly had done a number to him. As he inspected his hands for damage, the world swayed dangerously around him. For moment, he thought he would pass out again. ' _What a relief that would be….'_ Blood was caked under his broken fingernails; No doubt from William clawing the ground. He could taste it in his mouth as well. Experimentally, he moved his jaw around and, ever so slowly, tilted his head to each side, ignoring the rising nausea. His muscles barked in protest, but, at least, nothing seemed to be broken. Not anymore, anyways. It appeared that They had healed him of the more serious injuries, not just his back. They couldn't have him dying on Them. Yet, they didn't have to keep him in good condition while they still had Survivor's to watch. After all, he did not have to look good bound to the throne. He would not be needed to retrieve a new human while one still lived. Even one as troublesome as Higgsbury. Whatever knowledge They could gain from the scientist no longer outweighed the danger he represented to the order of things here.

Once he had taken an inventory of the injuries he could see or feel, a part of him almost felt pity for William and what he had endured, but he firmly squashed it down under his rage. A rage that grew and grew until it just bubbled behind the surface, consuming his being. At first, his anger was directed at Them, but it quickly changed targets to his alter ego. William had brought it upon himself and now he, _Maxwell_ , had to deal with the after effects. _Typical_. He was not even around to deal with the lingering injuries. He was too much of a pathetic coward to even handle that. He probably had not lasted long under the _tender_ ministrations of Them. William could not even stick around to deal with the consequences he had brought down upon them! No, _he_ was always expected to suffer them. _Himself and himself alone._ Well, as William had discovered, that was not to be the case anymore! A dark smirk formed on his face, unbidden. Oh, yes, he would ensure that William received any pain brought upon them. He would find him and drag him to the surface. That was a promise. There would be no where William could hide! He was the original personality. He had to be around somewhere.

Maxwell clenched his fists, turning his knuckles white. The shadows writhed with his sudden tensing before tightening painfully. Once he got the chance, he was going to make Higgsbury pay as well. His death would be slow and painful, assuming he did not become spider food first. That scientist was half the reason he ended up in this condition. If it weren't for Higgsbury, William would have had nothing to protest about, nothing to interfere in. With nothing to interfere in, there would be no more butting in on trying to control _his_ body. William should just accept that he had long ago given possession of it to him!

While he could not do anything beyond forcing William to experience Their punishments, he could bring down his wrath upon Higgsbury with little repercussions to himself. While They were still curious about scientist, They would be pleased to be rid of him all the same.

He glowered into the darkness. A rage fueled plan starting to form in his mind.

Hours and then days passed without any noteworthy events occurring and Maxwell found his anger simmering down under the silent gaze of Them. Chances of the scientist still being alive grew slimmer and slimmer with each passing moment. His plan fell away into the back of his mind. He might not have been able to bring it to fruition, but it still brought him a sinister sense of joy to know Higgsbury had probably died. He liked to think that it had been a slow death.

His injuries slowly healed with time, but his back still caused him pain whenever he shifted in his chair. He doubted he would be able to sit or stand straight again. Not unless he somehow earned their favour and got them to heal him, but that was an impossibility. There was no pleasing them.

He spent his time searching for William when he was not thinking about Higgsbury's potential death. At first, there had been little signs of the pathetic being, but, eventually, Maxwell found him barely aware in the darkest recesses of his mind. The only problem was that William was unresponsive. He did not even respond when Maxwell forcibly threw him out to the surface. It was disappointing, really. This behaviour certainly did not raise Maxwell's opinion of his alter ego.

Over time, Maxwell gave up trying to get a rise out of William and just listened to the gramophone, tapping his fingers idly against the chair's arms. By now, it was almost certain that Higgsbury had died and They were just waiting for the evidence of his existence to fade before sending him out to find another victim. He wondered on who They would choose next. Would he be forced to bring a relative in? A young child? An old lady reaching the end of her time? No matter. In the end, nothing mattered anymore. The cycle would continue until They found whatever knowledge they were searching for. Maybe They would replace him before then. That seemed unlikely, however. They had not tried to find anyone else. Not since Charlie. He had been a means to an end. He realized that now. He had been the key to the person they had wanted. He was nothing more than a trade. A bad trade in the end, but a willing one nonetheless. Thus, his perpetual prison sentence had begun and Charlie's madness had sparked to life.

There was not much to entertain him while bound to the chair. Eyes moved about in the darkness, but never approached the Nightmare Throne. The shadows twisted and moved about his limbs uncomfortably, forming loops and spirals as they wound Their way up and down his arms and legs. He had almost memorized their patterns, for they did not change much, when he felt it: the opening of the door. His surprise quickly twisted into his forgotten anger as They released him to go find Higgsbury.

When he appeared before the man, he could not help exploding at him. The surprise and anger warping his voice into something he no longer recognized as his own,

 _"What? You're still here?"_

He swung out his hands before him, his fingers curling into claws. He no longer cared about his appearance and, in his anger, temporarily forgot about the existence of Them. No, his focus was entirely on the frightened, thin man before him. Darkly, he sarcastically stated,

" _Impressive, but you should probably stop while you're ahead."_

As in before Maxwell debased himself further and wringed his scrawny neck.

But it was too late for that, wasn't it? There would be no stopping him this time.

He was sure of it.


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: Sorry if Maxwell is very OOC. I just figured that there would be no way he'd just snap at your character and then just teleport away. Especially since, in this story, he just got abused by the shadows.**

Chapter 5

Wilson was staring at him with wide, terrified eyes as he burst out laughing at the situation, ignoring the pain that wracked him from his back. He must have looked the part of an insane overlord with his arms bent in front of his body, hands palm up, and fingers curled into claws. As he cackled, he took a moment to check his surroundings out of the corner of his eyes, searching for anything that would dare to interfere in this situation. Finding nothing, but a few spider nests nearby, his mirth increased, mingling with the fury that was vying to be the dominate emotion. There was just one more thing to check on. A brief mental examination of William revealed him to still be virtually comatose to the outside world. There would be no interference from him this time. _None at all._ The shadows were tight around his body, but he could care less. It was highly unlikely that they would reveal themselves outright in front of Higgsbury, either to help him carry out his attack or to prevent him from ending their victim's existence, despite this realm being darker than any previous one and a lack of a bright light source nearby. Their curiosity at seeing him disgrace himself to the status of a common murderer after all these years must have been overwhelming. They had been denied the chance to witness it by William last time. They would not be denied again.

In conclusion of his brief survey, Maxwell realized that he could finally be done with this trouble causing pest before him for once and for all. For once, everything was going his way. Consequences be damned. He was going to kill him and be done with it. _No regrets. None._

"Are you alright?"

At the sound of the scientist's hesitant voice, Maxwell stopped laughing. His lips pressing into a thin line, he once again cast his gaze towards the pathetic excuse of a man half laying on the ground. Confusion briefly took over the blinding hatred and rage burning at his core. In spite of his fear, Higgsbury looked up at him with concern. _Concern_ of all things!

That made Maxwell hate him all the more. After all the scientist had been put through to get to this point, he still cared for others. Others who he perceived, rightly so, to have brought him to this miserable place. Just who does that? Certainly not him or his pathetic excuse of an alter ego, William. Not even kind, sweat-hearted Charlie had been able to bring herself to care about him as he swapped places with her on the throne. If she could not do it than how could the gaunt man before him care?

Once again, he was consumed by his all-encompassing anger. He snarled, refusing to answer. How _dare_ he show such an emotion to him of all people? Higgsbury took the hint to scram and tried to flee backwards, adrenaline forcing his body to move. Albeit, the twerp moved with obvious difficulty away.

Was he okay? _No,_ he had not been for such a long time. Would anyone be fine in his situation? He highly doubted it. He was trapped to the Nightmare Throne, constantly being forced to do horrible things, and watching the women that he had loved –that he _still_ loved- bow down to insanity and become a _monster_. A monster who would stop at nothing to kill him and every one of the survivors. Then, just when he was getting used to his eternal torment, this _boy_ had to come and cause nothing, but trouble and pain for him.

So, _no_ , he was _not alright_!

Distantly, as if through a dense fog, he felt the shadows twisting underneath his dirtied coat and suit. A dull sensation of pain broke through the rage fueled fog clouding his mind; a reminder for him to hurry up and get on with it. Maxwell schooled his features into a blank mask and, once again appearing as a reticent gentleman, he stalked forward at a surprisingly slow pace. Only the fury storming behind his eyes betrayed his emotions as he placed his hands into his pockets.

Higgsbury looked even more panicked at the unexpected change in demeanor. He tried to keep scrabbling away, forcing his body to move at any cost, even as his hands scraped against stones and twigs. His left hand slipped on the gravel and he let out a cry as he fell backwards into the ground. Still, he picked himself back up, pushing backwards with all his might. The scientist's body had not quite recovered enough to stand and run. However, fear, Maxwell observed, was a powerful motivator and it was an emotion he was taking great pleasure witnessing in Higgsbury. There was no need to rush his advance. There was far too much sick pleasure to be gained by watching Higgsbury fail to get away.

There was no noise, but the crunching of his boots on gravel and Higgsbury's labored breathing as he stopped moving to stare up at him in abject terror. There was nowhere for the pest to go as his back was pushed up against a husk of a tree and his body was too weak to get up and move around the tree that was in his way. Maxwell narrowed his eyes back down at him, watching him curl up, and came to a stop just before Higgsbury's feet. With deliberate slowness, he reached down to grab his victim's collar and hoisted him up into the air, ignoring the man's frantic pleas to let him go.

It was surprisingly easy to do so.

A tiny smirk formed, unbidden on his face as he brought his other hand up and placed his long fingers around the pale throat bared before him, but did not squeeze. He paused, relishing in watching and feeling Higgsbury struggle in vain against him. The man was so weak from his journey that his clawing and scratching was ineffectual against him. Besides, his clawing was nothing compared to what They could (and did) do to him daily. Thus, it was easily ignored. A small part of him that was not William at all, but himself felt disgusted at the realization that he was enjoying this situation. Enjoying the fear in his victim's dilated eyes and the feeling of power in his own body as he pressed Higgsbury into the rough bark of the dead tree. The disgust, a sign of weakness in his eyes, strengthened his rage to the point that even that feeling was pushed aside. Why shouldn't he enjoy ending the existence of the individual who was partially responsible for his punishment all those days ago? A punishment that had yet to heal and, probably, never would?

Desperate, Wilson continued to claw at his arm. Uncaring of this, he drew in close until he was only a hair's breadth away and murmured,

"Now, pal, let's put an end to this game, shall we? Can't have you mucking about no more."

He leaned back again, feeling Higgsbury's Adam's apple bob up and down against his hand as the man swallowed. The scientist went still, leaving his battered hands wrapped around the wrist of the hand pressed up against his throat. The man's tired gaze met his own resignedly. The seeming accepting of his fate caused Maxwell to briefly pause in his pursuit of killing the man long enough to allow him to rasp out,

"Funny, you did not strike me as the type to do the dirty work personally. _Especially_ after you gave me hope to escape. Why bother now?"

Instantly, Maxwell tightened his grip against the other man's throat. The hands wrapped around him tightened painfully as Higgsbury choked. Darkly, he growled,

"That is none of your concern, _Higgsbury_."

For some unfathomable reason to Maxwell, Higgsbury's eyes lit up with a fire at the mention of his name and he struggled against him with renewed vigor. Absent mindedly, as he continued to tighten his grip despite Higgsbury hammering against his arm, Maxwell noted that was the first time he had used his victim's name. A pointless and insignificant thought in the end.

Just when he gleefully noted that Higgsbury was nearing the point of passing out, the irritating little scientist seemed to realize that, yes, he still did have legs and these legs were now working once again after his most recent transportation to this realm. In response to this realization, he swung one of his legs with all his force towards Maxwell. Maxwell, in his surprise, instinctively moved to avoid the worst of the hit causing him to slacken off his grip on Higgsbury's throat. Higgsbury, coughing and gasping, took advantage of Maxwell's moment of inattention to rip off the offending hand.

The shadows, in their anger at Maxwell's supposed incompetency, reacted by harshly tightening around his chest and abdomen. Having the wind knocked out of him unexpectedly, Maxwell doubled over, staggered backwards, and released Higgsbury involuntarily. Wilson initially stumbled as his feet hit the ground, but he gained his center of balance quickly as his body recovered.

Time seemed to pause as they regarded each other. One watched with wary interest; the other watched with pain fueled hatred. Maxwell could almost see the gears turning in the scientist's clever mind as the man observed him. Maxwell knew that it was obvious to the scientist that Maxwell had not been hit hard enough by him to cause such a reaction. Hence, there must be another reason for his current doubled over state. Maxwell could not let the pest figure out that They were there with him, hiding under his clothing from the overcast daylight. Not if he valued his current state of well-being.

He tried to straighten up, but, as if in response to his thoughts, They tightened again causing his back to spasm agonizingly. He could not help taking a slight intake of breath as he fell to one knee. Mentally cursing William for rescuing Higgsbury and causing him to be in such a state, he glared up at the other man. The tables had certainly turned from a few moments ago. Now, he was the one in danger. Not just from Them, but from Higgsbury as well. Not far enough away burned a small fire that he had not noticed behind Higgsbury while he had hunted him down. The shadows would be of no help to him now. In fact, if Higgsbury did not destroy his body beyond the point of Them being able to heal it, They would take out Their anger on him after this situation solved itself for better or for worse.

If only he had succeeded. Assuredly, he would have been rewarded instead of facing the two terrible potential futures laid out before him: death or torture.

His vision wavered from the excruciating pain as his back continued its relentless spasms. He could still make out Higgsbury's frown as the man gingerly touched his already bruising neck. He heard him mutter quietly to himself that something was not right about this situation. That there was something he was not getting. Maxwell almost smirked. _'If only he knew…'_

Higgsbury did not approach him, but continued to examine him for a few minutes more before turning and walking away. The shadows, unable to reach him, yanked Maxwell back into the realm of the Nightmare Throne and threw his body across the floor.

As he skidded across the ground, Maxwell realized that not even he was cruel enough to force the already mostly comatose William to the surface to take the abuse in his stead. That, in itself, surprised him. After all, had he not concluded that William would take everything the shadows threw at them not so long ago?

But, where would he be without William? If William completely withdrew into himself, Maxwell would have no purpose. If he had no purpose… there was no point in his own existence, was there?

Thus, he decided, because this punishment was one he had brought upon himself for his failure, he would take it in full. He had no 'help' from the weakling on this matter and he was unlikely to receive any in the future.

A blood curdling scream erupted from his throat as he hit a pillar and felt something snap. Blood welled up in his mouth, which he spat out and glared defiantly at the eyes watching him in the dark.

However, he was not spineless like William. He would not take this without resistance

Even if resistance was futile against such an enemy.


End file.
